Clash of Empires: A Warhammer 40,000Star Wars Crossover
by Cromwell300
Summary: Dark forces gather and nation states prepare to clash. An intergalactic clash of arms between two galaxies that will shake the fabric of creation. This shall be an age of eternal war. (This is a Warhammer 40,000 and Star Wars crossover).
1. Chapter 1

There was a thud and roar heard inside the shuttle as it entered the atmosphere. The interior of the Lambda class shuttle was lit by the crimson color of the ready light, making the troopers inside appear to be in a perpetual haze of red. Trooper TK-201, Mags, held back the urge to vomit inside his helmet. He hated atmospheric entry. Too much could go wrong. Unfortunately for him, his job as an Imperial Stormtrooper, dictated that such reentries would be common place. He did an equipment check despite his nausea. His E-11 was in his seat rack with the power pack out, ready to be retrieved and charged the moment they made landfall. He scrolled through his helmet's heads up display checking the vitals of his squadmates.

The ten man fire team consisted of himself, the sergeant, seven riflemen, Juro, Tuvo, Ein, Enoch, Diva, Sura, and Davion, and two T-21 gunners, Brecha and Giva. There vitals were all semi normal. All of them had an adrenaline rush, and there heart rates reflected it. Atmospheric reentry had that effect on anyone, especially when it was a combat drop. This mission however may be a wild goose chase. They were descending to the Imperial Listening outpost on the jungle moon of Migeto. The moon had one large mega continent populated entirely by a vast nearly uninhabitable jungle. The outpost, hidden away at the heart of the jungle, had missed its routine check in. Standard procedure for such instillations called for immediate armed intervention by a squad of troopers deployed from an Imperial Light Cruiser in orbit. Mags' squad was next in the rotation for orbital insertion, lucky them.

"Sergeant." The pilot's voice chimed on his radio.

"Go ahead."

"Five minutes till insertion. Ready up."

Mags retrieved his blaster inserting a power pack but keeping the safety on. He rose grabbing on to overhead handles to brace himself as the shuttle rocked back and forth. He walked over to the closed exit ramp and turned about facing his squad.

"Stand Up!" he ordered, and the squad followed suit.

"Gear Check!" he commanded as he checked the first two squad members. Their suits had been pressurized and their blasters were charged.

"Check!" he shouted as the front troopers repeated his action to the trooper behind and so on and so forth until the last troopers.

"Gear Checked Sergeant!" Juro, the trooper at the rear, shouted.

He signaled his approval. "Remember safeties on till the ramp hits the dirt! Soon as we hit the deck disperse quick and evenly! Watch your spacing, and check your spacing! Hoorah?" he asked in confirmation.

The troopers echoed him in a chorus of hoorah's in confirmation.

"Drinks are on me when we get back to the ship!"

That got another hoorah in approval.

His radio barked again.

"Thirty seconds!" the pilot barked as Mags turned about facing the exit ramp. There was a wir of servos and the hiss of pistons as the ramp quickly descended. The smell of wet soil and fresh rain cycled through his helmet's filters, as Mags moved quickly out the exit. The shuttle was barely touching the ground as he bounded out. His optical visor adjusted for the near night darkness, as he switched to night vision. There was a torrent of rainfall all about him limiting his visibility further yet his helmet's scanners were still able to highlight his surroundings vaguely. He didn't have to check his squad to know that they were already in position. They had fanned out in a half circle around the shuttle scanning their surroundings.

The Shuttle, after disgorging the last trooper, dusted off as it rose through the canopy of the surrounding rainforest, and flew back into the sky. With the roar of the shuttles engines gone, the only thing which could be heard was the constant almost calming patter of the rain. Mags gestured to his squad to advance. They advanced in a star formation. Mags at the center, Tuvo, Ein, and Enoch took point, Brecha and Giva were on the right and left flanks respectively and Juro, Diva, Davion, and Sura took up the rear.

They moved through the thick jungle undergrowth towards the station, its position highlighted as a way lay marker on the squad's huds. This was not the first time they had advanced in the jungle, and the squad was familiar with the terrain. There was a sense of laxity in their movements as to them it was probably another false alarm. Mags almost felt the need to reprimand them, but what they saw next seemed to do that job for him.

Tuvo raised a hand to signal the squad to stop.

"Talk to me Tuvo what's up?" Mags said over the radio.

"You better come see this sir." Came the reply. There was a sense of disgust Mags detected in his trooper's voice and he soon saw why. As he approached Tuvo, Mags saw a corpse layed out in front of the man. The corpse had been a stormtrooper, or rather it somewhat appeared to be. The corpse was mangled. The legs were sprawled out and the upper torso was nothing but a gory stump. Mags looked about and saw one of the arms and the head had been blown ten feet back. He approached the head and saw it was in bad shape. The trooper's dog tags still miraculously were by the head and he lifted them up feeling a pang of sadness as he read the tag. TK-302, Dagne, was inscribed on the tags. They had gone through basic together, and to see the man end like this was almost terrifying. He stored the tags in a utility pouch as he went back to Tuvo, who was examining the corpse.

"Got anything?" Mags asked devoid of emotion.

"I think so sir. These are burn marks here but not like from blaster fire. Looks more consistent with projectile weapons based off the damage."

"Didn't think anybody used those anymore." Mags reflected. He keyed his mike as he looked about the forest. "Alright people tighten up. This just became a combat situation. No more slacking and stay frosty clear?"

There was a series of acknowledgements as he ordered them to move out. Now they moved with a purpose. Their blasters scanned their surroundings more fervently as they looked for danger in the undergrowth. Just what had happened here? Mags thought as they advanced. And why the hell uses projectiles anymore? He would know the answer to that soon enough.

They soon were in range of the outpost. Mags pulled out his magnifiers and scanned the area. There was destruction everywhere. Blast marks pocketed the vaguely rectangular structure, and bodies littered the muddy gore strewn ground. The squad was prone on a hill overlooking the compound, the low hanging forest foliage obscured their white armor. Everyone was tensed up their blasters leveled down range. They were ready for a fight, Mags observed, but what was waiting for them?

With a gesture, he signaled Tuvo, Ein, Enoch, and Brecha to advance. Brecha carried his T-21 from the hip advancing methodically while the others approached on his flanks. They came to the pressurized doors and halted. Tuvo tapped the mic on his radio twice to signal Mags who signaled the others to advance. They met up at the door and took up breaching positions on either side of the door. Brecha and Giva stood a few paces back from the door their T-21s aimed at the entrance.

"Davion, crack her open." Mags ordered.

Davion stepped up to the control panel and hotwired the controls and circuitry. With a hiss and a clang the doors slid open. Giva and Brecha visibly tensed as it did. No enemies emerged. The two heavy gunners advanced cautiously as the rest of the squad fell in behind them. Inside the lighting was out, damaged by some kind of explosion. The long hallway that stretched before them was shrouded in darkness yet it did not hide the dead troopers and officers littering the hallway. There was another sealed door at the end of the hallway which would open to the command center. The squad continued to advance towards it.

"Sir," Tuvo chimed in as they advanced. "I'm getting an inbound signal heading towards the command center. I don't know what it is but it definitely is some kind of information and data."

"Someone is using the outpost to get access to something they shouldn't be looking at." Mags replied. They must be dealing with Rebel infiltrators, though the carnage leading up to this point contradicts everything he had known about the Rebel scum. Perhaps they were reverting to more barbaric tactics now. Regardless they would soon find out who was behind this.

They approached the door to the command center slowly until Mags called for everyone to halt.

"Squad initiate door breach. Let's see who's on the other side." He ordered and the squad moved acknowledging his order. The squad split, and stacked up on either side of the door. Ein approached the door with a magnetic breaching charge setting it on the door lock. In a moment he stepped back and gave a thumbs up to Mags.

Mags raised his detonator and shouted, "Fire in the hole!"

He pressed the detonator and the charge detonated blowing the doors inwards and creating a large hole. The stormtroopers charged into the darkened room spreading out covering all angles. Inside was mostly the same. Damaged terminals, blast marks and bodies littered the room save for one difference which drew the squad's immediate attention.

At the center of the room, the main control and communications computer sat. It was intact and its instruments gave off an eerie glow in the almost darkened room. Towering over the computer, a massive cloaked figure stood with its back turned to the stormtroopers. Immediately the troopers ordered the figure to put his hands in the air, but it paid them no mind. Rather it continued to type commands into the computer. There was a tense moment as Mags and his men continued to shout at the figure to get down and surrender. As he looked at the figure, he saw what appeared to be dark green armor decorated with wing and skull iconography. The robes which adorned the figure looked worn and tattered, and on the figures back was a large pack or perhaps generator of some kind. What was most peculiar was the massive sword hanging from the figures hip. How would anyone be able to wield such a blade? He wondered.

The Stormtroopers continued further into the room in a semi-circle shape, their blasters trained on the figure. They had him covered, yet that did little to ease Mags.

"Final warning!" he shouted "on your knees now or we will shoot you!"

Mags almost immediately regretted saying that as the figure paused in his task and turned slowly to face them. Now turned about he saw more of the armor and the strange designs adorning the suit, along with an assortment of ammo pouches, knives, and two large pistols holstered on either side of the figure's hips. Mags saw that the intruder resembled a man, or at least what he thought was a man. The intruder wore a hood with covered most of his face save for the man's scared chin and grizzled mouth. From what he could tell, it seemed to Mags that the intruder was regarding the stormtroopers with a slight bit of curious amusement, as if the trooper's threats meant nothing to him. Mags felt a sudden chill as the intruder looked directly at him and spoke. It was a soft gravelly voice which sent chills to the bone.

"A mouse dictates not it's whims to the lion."

Mags had no idea what that meant, but he did know a threat when he heard one. Without a second thought he pulled the trigger of his blaster, yet his opponent was quicker. The massive man leapt to the right in a somersault over the wrecked computer counsels. To see such a bulky man move so quickly was almost unbelievable. Blaster bolts filled the air. E-11 barked on semi-auto while the T-21s thundered on full auto. A few of the shots hit their target, yet there was the telltale ping of deflected blaster bolts as they bounced off the intruder's armor.

This man now went on the offensive. As he rose quickly from his somersault he drew his two cumbersome pistols and returned fire. One was a solid projectile weapon, which roared like a blaster cannon, and the other discharged searing beams of blue energy. Both weapons were incredibly devastating. First Ein and Enoch went down. They were struck by the slug thrower. Their bodies were thrown like ragdolls against the wall as the bullets impacted. Then in a horrid display of barbaric weaponry, the rounds exploded moments after penetrating the troopers' armor. Both Ein and Enoch's torsos ruptured like pimples as the rounds detonated, spraying the contents of their innards across the wall.

The energy weapon claimed Sura, Davion, and Diva. Where once there were living troopers now there were only charred remains as the beam burned through them in the blink of an eye. In that moment Mags realized they were screwed.

"Pull Back!" he screamed, "Pull back!"

He fired round after round at the intruder to little effect. The rest of his squad followed suit, following Mags out the entrance. Brecha and Giva laid down a torrent of suppressive fire at the intruder. They may be the only ones able to do some damage, as the intruder seemed to make an effort to avoid their shots as he ducked behind cover. Of course that did not remain the case as he fired a trio of rounds at the two heavy gunners.

Giva was hit first in her hip which ruptured a second later. Before she could scream in pain or shock the second round took her head off. Brecha was struck in the shoulder. The explosive round not only tore off his arm, but also burst open Brecha's chest cavity killing him instantly.

Juro screamed in rage at seeing his squad mates taken out so easily. Instead of following Mags' orders, Juro rushed at the giant switching to full auto and screaming "For Emperor Palpatine!" The giant simply dashed forward at an inhuman speed dropping one of his oversized pistols and impaling his fist through Juro's chest and out his backside. To Mags and Turo's horror, the intruder held Juro's quivering heart in his massive armored hand.

"Your emperor is false." The intruder said calmly before idly tossing Juro aside and casually picking up his pistol.

Mags was frozen in fear. For the first time in his life he was not sure what to do. Turo snapped him out of it.

"Come on boss! We've got to fucking go!" he screamed as he dragged Mags at a sprint down the hallway.

They were now sprinting down the long hall in a desperate attempt to escape. Mags keyed his mic and tried to get a hold of the shuttle. They needed to get off world and find back up. Whatever this intruder was, they were not cut out to face it. There was a bark of shots as the intruder fired his pistol behind them. Tuvo tripped and fell. Mags reached down to pick Tuvo up but all he dragged up was a bloody corpse. He fell down in shock scrambling away from Tuvo's mauled corpse. What the hell was this? Why was this happening? He looked up and saw the strange giant striding towards him. The figure moved with a world weary swagger and despite his bulk there was a haggardness to him. It was as if this figure where death itself, and it had come to claim them. The giant stood towering over him. He regarded Mags with one final look of curiosity before slowly raising his large energy pistol. Even through his helmet Mags could feel the heat emanating from the barrel. He made no moves of resistance against the giant, for Mags knew it was pointless.

"What are you?" he asked in a quivering voice which was a far cry from the gruff trooper that he was but a moment before.

The figure granted him a response, "They call me, Cypher."

Cypher then pulled the trigger…..


	2. Chapter 2

The sun had long set on Coruscant. Though it was night, the city lights kept everything a lit as though it were day. On the raised streets and platforms the citizenry moved about seeking pleasure and fortune, and a few conducting business even at this late hour. All the while speeders, jet bikes and ships of various sizes cruised about overhead, all moving along pre-determined flight paths. To Nairn this was the norm. As an Imperial Agent, he had seen many similar or exotic locations across the Empire. None ever compared to the streets of Coruscant. It was here that he was raised. Starting off as a homeless orphan, it was almost shocking to see how Nairn had changed. Gone was the starved and ragged boy and in his place now stood a thirty five year old man who had risen through the imperial ranks. He had sharp features with an angular long face and a pointed nose. His hair was jet black and was combed back with trimmed sideburns running down the flanks of his face. Physically he had a lithe athletic build, though at 5'11 he did not strike as an entirely threatening figure. He did not wear his imperial regalia opting instead for a more roguish attire which amounted to a gray work coat, cargo pants, black boots and a plain white shirt. Covering his head he wore a simple cap that made him appear all the more common. At his side he wore an S-5 heavy blaster pistol. Though it was an old blaster, it was a classic and somewhat desirable weapon on the civilian market. Nairn opted to use it partially because he enjoyed the pistol, but mostly because he didn't want to stand out with a standard imperial blaster. Considering his job discretion and blending in were always preferred circumstances for agents.

In this case, it would suit Nairn well. He had no specific objective. As an Agent he had to sniff out plots of rebellion or sedition amongst the populace. The Rebels were a tenacious bunch, yet that didn't stop the Empire. For Nairn it was only a matter of time before the scum were rooted out, and it was here where he could do so. Acting as a regular citizen, he'd blend in with the crowds, go to café's or bars, talk with strangers, listen in on conversations, and of course contact other agents or anonymous sources. Being someone who had grown up on the streets, he felt a connection with it. There were no secrets to be hid here. He heard everything and knew more faces then one could think possible. He was the king of information here, and it was the way he liked it.

He stepped into the establishment, "Grixie's", and took a seat at the bar. The usual crowd was in there. A large assortment of mostly young 20 somethings who preferred to drink and proclaim their independence while burning away the credits their parents loaned to them.

"Hey soldier boy. You look thirsty." A pleasing voice said to him.

He looked with a judgmental and annoyed scowl at the bar tender, Deevra. She was an alien of the Codru-Ji species. For the most part her species, like many other species, shared many similarities with humans. The only difference in appearance where her pointed ears and of course the second pair of arms adding up to a four armed figure. Other than that she appeared to be mostly a normal red headed woman.

"You shouldn't call me that," he said sternly "you know I don't like it when people know what I am."

She waved one of her four hands in mockery at him, "Oh please, like any of this lot care about that fact."

Her top two hands were already moving to get Nairn a drink will the other two cleaned shot glasses.

"Corellian Brandy, on the rocks," she said sliding the class over to him.

"Thanks," Nairn took a sip and enjoyed the burn as it went down. As he put the glass back down, he couldn't help but scowl at a group of drunken university students bumping into him as they passed.

"When did all these damned kids start coming here Dee?"

Deevra leaned on the elbows of her upper arms on the bar while her lower ones rested on her hips. "Narin you know as well as I they've always been like this, we just got old and tired of their crap."

"We're not that fuckn old," he replied taking another sip.

"We're old enough," she turned her head as another patron called for her. "I'll be back. Let me know if you need more brandy."

She turned and left Nairn as he watched her walk away. There was a subtle sway to her hips he rather enjoyed. He recalled an old saying, about how watching a beautiful woman walk away was a wondrous sight in its own right. Nairn however wouldn't mind if she was walking towards him in a more private setting. Absent mindedly I thought about how his xenophobic superiors would react to such a thing. Any of his rivals would love to shame him with dirt like that. He allowed himself a chuckle. Maybe someday when fewer eyes are watching him.

As he took another sip, he felt a peculiar chill. It was an instinct of his, something he couldn't explain yet was always right. It was a feeling warning him that danger lurked nearby, and that he should be alert. Calmly and casually he turned himself around leaning with his back against the bar and popping his hat back. To anyone he might appear as any other patron at the bar, and yet Nairn was using that discretion to his advantage. He looked about the crowded establishment scanning for minute details that might give a threat away and identify it for him. That would help this feeling of warning go away. Ha saw people dancing, drinking, conversing, at least one fight breaking out, though none of that was out of the ordinary.

One thing however caught is attention. Against the back wall, there was a booth shaded in an ambient blue light. The light was dull and was there more for aesthetic mood coloring. A large portion of the booth, like the others around it, was hidden in shadow. It was in this booth Nairn saw a strange figure sitting there lounging in the shadows. With the crowd of patrons between him and the shadows covering the stranger, Nairn was unable to discern any definable features of the man. The only thing he knew, was his instinct which told him that the stranger was watching Nairn.

Casually he strode about, passing some patrons and interacting with others. All the while he knew the stranger was watching his movements. He made is way towards the man. Nairn made no threatening moves as he approached, no need for this to get bloody. The stranger looked at Nairn as he approached, and cocked his head allowing the blue light to expose his face. He looked young with hair that was cropped short and probably brown though it was difficult to say for certain with the light. The strangers legs where kicked up on the table. He wore what appeared to be combat boots, and cargo pants with a light grey city camouflage pattern. The stranger wore a skin tight shirt which accented his musculature, with the addition of what appeared to be armor plates on the chest and shoulders. Some kind of sidearm was holstered in a side strap, and Nairn noticed an assortment of ammo pouches and other cloth compartments attached to the man's belt. Finally there was sheathed knife attached to his point, with a stylized skull forming the pommel.

Nairn approached and pointed at an empty seat at the booth. "This seat taken?"

The stranger shock his head with a grin, "Not at all partner. Take a load off."

Nairn noted the odd twang in the man's accent and made a mental note of it. "You're not from this sector of space are you?"

"The accent give it away?" the stranger asked taking a sip of his drink.

"Indeed, Outer Rim?"

"Beyond it actually, from the planet of Catachan. You've probably never heard of it."

The stranger wasn't wrong in that regard. The man offered to shake Nairn's hand, "Name is Nix."

"Nairn." He said shaking Nix's hand. "What brings you to Coruscant Nix?"

"Specific work," Nix replied. The man shot Nairn an unsettling grin, "Messy stuff honestly. You'll probably have no interest in that."

Nairn nodded towards the pistol, "Bounty work?"

Nix shrugged, "of a sort. How about you?"

"Freight work. Trips bring me here a lot. Works bad but the pay is worth it," Nairn replied using one of his common covers.

That made Nix laugh hysterically. Nairn was about to ask why, but Nix told him anyway.

"You? A freighter? You're too clean for the job. I'd try a better cover brother."

Now it was Nairn's turn to laugh, "A better cover you say? I didn't think I was so obvious."

"You made the mistake of coming up with a lie. Best cover story in my opinion is the truth. No one ever expects the truth to actually be true."

"I can think of a few persons, who would disagree with you there." He took another sip of the brandy, "We can't all be so reckless."

"So say some, but I can afford to be so."

"Oh? And why's that?" Nairn asked inquisitively.

Nix cocked his head with a sneer, "Ever heard the saying 'I've got an Ace up my sleeve'? I'm the ace."

"That so?" Nairn asked with a hint of sarcasm. "Someone's overconfident."

"I've got good reason to be, not that it matters much for you."

Nairn didn't like the sound of that, "I take it now you tell me why that is the case, and if I'm guessing right, why you've been eyeballing me since I walked in this place."

"It's nothing personal," Nix replied as he lowered his feet off the table and back to the ground. "My master has preordained you to be an annoyance. I remove annoyances. Sorry about that."

Nairn instinctively reached for his blaster. Slowly while keeping his movements hidden under the table, he drew the blaster.

"I think you'll find me to be more than an annoyance."

Nix shook his head with a chuckle, "And I think that right now, you'll pull the trigger on that peashooter and find out how tough I really am."

 _Was this man insane?_ Nairn thought to himself. _Who in their right mind asks another man to shoot him willingly?_ Nairn hesitated and Nix continued talking.

"Allow me to put this in perspective Nairn." Nix drew his own large pistol casually and laid it on the table. The pistol was roughly rectangular in shape, and the entire barrel shroud appeared to be some kind of compensator. The weapon had a large forward magazine, and by the looks of things, it appeared to be some kind of large caliber slug thrower. Nairn's blaster suddenly felt grossly inadequate, even though he knew size wasn't everything.

"Just so we're clear here, allow me to give you a proper introduction. I am Vindicare assassin designation N1-X. I've been raised to be an expert marksmen since I was ten, and trained in a hell of a lot of things that make me nearly super human. Honestly you don't have a chance."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Nix shrugged as he holstered his pistol, "Unlike my more depressing compatriots, I tend to be a bit more personal and understanding. I like to let my targets know that I'm after them. Tends to ease their minds a bit in the end."

"You're over confidence will be your undoing then. As you no doubt have surmised, I am an agent of the Galactic Empire, and my combat abilities are nothing to slouch at," he replied threateningly, unsure if the threat would have any affect.

"We shall see about that," Nix said rising casually to leave. Nairn rose and stood in his way.

"Understand this Nix, whatever it is you and your master want, remember this. I am the Empire and the Empire is me. You kill me and you'll be hunted down, and there will be nothing you or anyone else can do."

Nairn stood his ground in the face of Nix who still stood un-fazed. The assassin pulled out a smoke and placed in his lips. He pointed to the bar as he lite the smoke.

"Nice piece of xenos arse there." He said pointing directly at Deevra who was serving different patrons. "If I was you, I'd tap that, and soon."

Nairne scowled at Nix. "Careful who you point at. You might not like what happens next."

His hand tensed over his blaster. Nix simply chuckled again and casually shouldered past Nairn.

"Oh by the way!"

Nairn turned towards Nix.

"Thanks for the drinks," Nix said as he walked away and disappeared in the crowd.

Nairn sat back down at the booth. He felt physically exhausted and wanted to rest. His heart rate was up and his temple pounded. He almost wanted to draw his blaster there and shoot the bastard, but that would be a bad choice. Too many civilians, his cover could be compromised, and he wasn't sure about how much this Nix said was true in regards to the man's combat prowess. He took a breath and another sip of his brandy. This was the one thing he hated with his job, to many people trying to kill you. What was said disturbed Nairn. If he was considered an annoyance, what was he an annoyance to? On top of that what this Nix had said just didn't make sense: Catachan, ballistic weapons, vindicare assassins? He'd never heard of these things. Chances were it all could be nothing, but he didn't know that. Not to mention a threat on his life, no matter what, was always something to get anxious about in this line of work. Almost absent mindedly he looked at where Nairn had sat and saw three empty glasses. _That bastard,_ he thought as saw Deevra approach him from the bar.

"You okay?" she asked oblivious to the danger.

Nairn nodded, "Just more work to do. It never ends."

"Tell me about it," she nodded to the empty glasses "your friend coming back?"

With a smile Nairn pulled out the credits to pay for the drinks.

"He had to run. We're both working on something, for Emperor and country." He lied knowing full well she didn't need to know the truth. Ignorance is bliss after all.

"Fine by me. Let me know if you need anything else," she said taking the glasses and starting to walk away.

"Dee?" he called after her. She paused turning around to hear what he had to say.

"What time you off?"

She looked at a watch on one of her wrists, "two hours from now. Why?"

"Need some company after your shift?"

She smiled wickedly at that.

"I think I can put some time aside." She replied going back to work with a little extra swing in her step.

Best to enjoy what you've got while you've got it in this line of work. Though in Nairn's case he was going to make damned sure that what he's got would stay with him for quite a while longer. He continued to sit at the booth sipping at his drink and waiting till Deevra's shift ended. All the while he thought of what he would do next, how he would take on this new threat, and who he should contact. Just another night of the game of shadows Nairn so often play. _Let the games begin._


	3. Chapter 3

The moon of Migeto hung lazily over the planet Juno. Captain Arno Droit reflected absent mindedly how beautiful it looked floating there. It was a shame however he couldn't enjoy it however. He stood on the bridge of the _Defiant,_ an Arquitens class light cruiser. They had been stationed as a defensive garrison for the listening outpost on the moon, and in the past few hours they had mobilized in response to a missed check in from the outpost. They had deployed a squad to investigate, but had lost contact soon after. Arno had ordered a second and third squad down, and both had discovered a gruesome scene. The personnel and security detachment along with the response squad, had all been eliminated. All that was left were mauled and mutilated bodies. In response Arno called for reinforcements. He wasn't sure what this was, but he wasn't going to take chances. For all he knew this violence could be the precursor to something larger. In response, two additional light cruisers, the _Repulse_ and the _Endurance,_ along with three Gozanti class cruisers, the _Reliant, Swift,_ and _Retribution_ , along with three flights of tie fighters. Though they were nowhere near the firepower of a Star Destroyer, the small fleet was still a considerable response. It eased Arno's mind to have such overwhelming firepower backing him up.

"Captain, we are receiving audio transmissions from _Repulse_. They're reporting all systems are nominal and the fleet is ready to proceed with the sweep." The first officer, Lieutenant Sharpe, notified Arno on their current readiness.

"Very good Mr. Sharpe. Have the _Repulse_ and _Endurance_ finished unloading their marines to the surface?"

"Yes sir. Along with our own contingent we have ninety ground personnel sweeping the area around the outpost. Lieutenant Pierce is in command of the away teams."

"Pierce is a good man," Arno reflected aloud, "If we don't find anything here, I'm sure they will down there."

He glanced once more at the moon. Whoever did this had left no trace of their presence, but it did not matter. There is always something left behind no matter how thorough one is in covering their tracks. It was time to hunt for some rebels.

Ardno began to rattle off commands, and doing what he did best. "Mr. Sharpe signal the fleet to advance to sector c11 at half thrust. Helm bring us about twenty degrees starboard. All ahead half thrust."

The bridge staff did as they were ordered quickly and efficiently. The ship rumbled and Arno could feel the deck shift and quake as the engines kicked in. He always preferred how the smaller ships felt when they flew when compared to the larger capitol ships. He remembered serving in and Imperial II class Star Destroyer as a lowly ensign. Half the time he served below deck and away from the bridge or any major sections. Half the time you couldn't tell if you were moving down there. It was almost disappointing considering the size of the ships. The smaller vessels took more skill to pilot. You had to feel how she shifted and turned, know what her limits are, and when you could push past those limits. It was almost a preposterous idea to think of space travel that way, but Arno was somewhat of a romanticist when it came to such things. It helped him to better execute his job.

The fleet advanced in a triangular formation. The gozanti's class ships advanced in the vanguard deploying the Tie flights as they advanced. The Ties flew out ahead of the main ships and engaged in long range sweeps. Arno ordered the main fleet to spread out their formation and maximize scanner output. Space was vast and empty. A small ship or debris could escape the human eye, and so they had to resort to large search around the moon. Perhaps there was a probe or a smaller vessel hiding its signature by powering down. Regardless they would search until they found something. Arno had already planned a patrol pattern encompassing the moon. If they found nothing in the first sweep, they'd expand their search pattern.

"Captain I'm getting some strange readings here?" the navigations officer Erin Bordo had spoken up.

"What do you have Mr. Bordo?"

"Unknown. There is some kind of massive rift developing. Our scanners are picking it up and we're getting some off the chart readings."

"What do you mean by that?"

Bordo shook his head frustrated. "These readings are off the chart. I'm detecting high levels of radiation emanating from sector b9 port side. There are some similarities to a hyperspace exit, but I've never seen anything like this!"

"Perhaps it's a special anomaly in the hyperspace lanes." He suggested walking over to Bordo.

"Sire we have a visual!" Sharpe shouted drawing Arno's attention.

"Mr. Sharpe is it still in sector b9?" Arno asked as he came back to look out the central viewport.

"Aye sir anomaly holding at b9."

Arno could plainly see it and he had honestly never seen anything like it. There was lightning of a multitude of colors bursting from a central point in space some 10,000 kilometers port side. Though it seemed it was spewing from nothing. The lightning was followed by vaporous gas clouds which were similarly multicolored and appearing from nowhere.

"Open a channel to the Tie flights. Order them to stay clear of the anomaly and reform on us."

The communications officer, Lieutenant Diesel, complied with Arno's orders.

"Command the rest of the fleet to follow are lead and steer clear of the anomaly. I will not have anything out of the ordinary harming us now."

"Captain! Something's emerging from the anomaly!" Sharpe said pointing.

Arno followed the officers gaze and saw the anomaly and grown into what looked like a literal tear in the fabric of space. Looking at it now Arno and the others felt an odd sensation of nausea as if the anomaly itself was making them sick with its presence. Arno's head began to swim, but he shook of the nausea as he heard Lieutenant Diesel's voice started shouting at him.

"Captain I'm getting odd transmissions coming from the anomaly! They seem to be radio transmissions!"

"On speaker!" Arno ordered. Static was heard over the speakers and was being distorted somewhat by the anomaly, but voices could still be heard crackling through.

+Approach-…breach…..attack for-…..standard spread+

+Decelerate to…-ive power output. Order the flee-…..+

Without another guess Arno guess the transmissions to be military in origin. Immediately he knew what to do.

"Whatever that is it's not Imperial. Order the fleet into a defensive formation, I want a staggered line on the double!"

Diesel followed the orders and relayed them to the other vessels. The small fleet came about facing the anomaly. The firing line staggered out with 500m clearance between each ship. Deflectors were set to maximum and the turbolasers were primed and charged. The Tie flights took up positions surrounding the imperial ships making sure to stay out of the larger ship's firing arcs. The small fleet then waited for whatever was coming to emerge from the anomaly. They did not have to wait long.

Through the anomaly large blocky ships emerged. They were not the typical angular designs that Arno was familiar with. They were rectangular in shape, but with what appeared to be clearly defined naval features. The ships were dark green in color, strange buttresses and towers adorned the hull, and massive slab like shields were on the port and starboard sides of the prows for the ships. Arno noted that each ship coming out, of which he counted six at the moment, were some form of capitol ships. He couldn't know there exact size but rather he guessed based off their rough distance to the Imperials. If these ships were anything like star destroyers, they may have to retreat quickly. Then again he had no idea if these ships had the firepower to match a star destroyer. His thoughts were interrupted as something far larger emerged. What emerged left Arno speechless.

There were three massive ships each similar in appearance, to the smaller ones but far larger. These colossal ships emerged like passing behemoths, bristling with firepower and covered in armor. Arno was in a state of shock as was the rest of his crew. _What in the name of all that is holy are these monstrosities?_

"C-Captain?" the startled voice of Sharpe cut in snapping Arno back to reality. "What are we to do sir?"

For a moment he wasn't sure what to do. What could they do? Against ships so large and undoubtedly powerful, was there anything their paltry few could do? They needed the main Imperial fleet here, and they needed it now. A plan began to formulate in Arno's mind. He needed to find out who or what these ships were, and if they were hostile, he would have to find some way to stall them.

He cleared his throat, "Mr. Diesel? Open a channel all frequencies."

"Sir?"

"Open the channel damn you!"

Diesel complied and he opened multiple frequencies. He gave a thumbs up when they were set. Arno straightened up adjusting his collar nervously. For a moment he wondered if he should even speak at all. The ships assembling from the anomaly seemed to be ignoring him for the moment. Would speaking over the comms reveal their position and bring about their destruction? He exhaled slowly to calm himself. He was committed now and there was no turning back. He stood straight and began to speak into the intercom.

* * *

+++ _Realspace entry complete. Dark Vengeance at 100% integrity. 0% hull breach. Disengaging Warp Geller fields…..+++_

The servitor, a half human half machine automaton, prattled on as it reinitiated sub systems and ship functions. Its voice was joined by a chorus of other servitors built into various computers and alcoves of the ship's bridge. The vessel was a battle barge of the Dark Angels space marine chapter known as _Dark Vengeance._ Ship Master Haniel Grey, an Astartes himself, let the chorus of voices wash over him as he sat in the command dais.

With a simple thought his mind connected to the ships sensors through a neural link to the navigation computers and sensory arrays. The fleet consisting of _Dark Vengeance,_ three strike cruisers, and ten Nova class frigates, along with a compliment of support and supplementary craft. All ships had successfully made the transition to real space, and thankfully none had been lost. This area of space was unknown to them, and the light of the astropathic choirs barely reached here so far from Terra. Thankfully they were able to make it and thus close every closer to their quarry. On this unknown moon somewhere hiding on the forested mega continent, the Fallen Angel known as Cypher lurked. He would not escape so easily this time.

As he monitored the fleet and received communications from other ships, Haniel noticed a slight blip on his radar. With a thought he ordered a servitor to get a visual, and in quick order he received an image of the space in question. The area was some 10,000 kilometers out, and the image showed a small cluster of void ships bearing a design he did not recognize. The ships were tiny in comparison to the Imperial war vessels, perhaps comparable to a small corvette. He noted weapons batteries and a charged energy presence amongst the small ships. Further he noted a series of radio waves at varying frequencies, an attempt at hailing perhaps? Before he could investigate further his concentration was broken by a prying voice.

"Yes Captain Nakir, to answer your question we have arrived." There was a note of sarcasm in Haniel's voice, though it was in good humor.

Captain Nakir was a tall Astartes. His armor was the traditional darkened hue of green, with gunmetal gray trim and Imperial iconography. He wore the traditional knight robes over his arm, with the cowl drawn back revealing a pale skinned hairless face marred with burn scars. Nakir and Haniel had been friends for many centuries, and Nakir was often at the bad end of his friend's jokes. The scared Astartes did not mind, and often let Haniel's surprising humor run off his shoulders.

"Forgive me brother, but I grow anxious. Especially when one so hunted draws near." There was an urgency of seriousness weighing on Nakir's voice, and Haniel could not blame him. Cypher, along with the other fallen angels, were a blight on the Dark Angel's honor who carried with them a terrible secret. As such, for the sake of the Chapter, these renegades needed to be silenced. Cypher was one of the more notorious and illusive of the fallen. Many a time did he slip the Dark Angels grasp, and not once had they gained the upper hand. Perhaps today would be different.

"Are your forces prepared for planetfall my friend?" Haniel asked though he knew the answer.

Nakir nodded with a grin, "The 6th, 7th, and 10th companies have been ready since before warp transit. They are ready and willing to shed traitor's blood."

"Good to hear. And might I add brother not unexpected."

Nakir nodded towards one of the screens displaying the distant xeno's craft. "These are unexpected however. Should we board them, to make sure our quarry is not there?"

Haniel shook his head, "No, If Cypher had boarded one of those vessels, I suspect he would be long gone. These seem to be a patrol of some sort. I'm picking up their hails." Haniel grinned in amusement as heard one of the messages play in his neural implants. "They demand that we identify ourselves or be fired upon."

Nakir chuckled darkly at that, "that seems a threat to me brother. Though it doesn't matter. No one, not even these unknown souls, can bear witness to the fallen and live to tell the tale."

"Silence any threat be they armed with weapons or armed with words." Haniel reflected, "See to your men Captain, I shall deal with these."

"Very well. We shall mount up and begin planetfall. Good hunting brother." Nakir said slamming his fist to his chest in salute. Haniel returned the gesture and Nakir strode off the bridge. Content in his friend's determination, he turned his attention back towards the interlopers and gave orders to the _Redolent Justice,_ and the _Resolve_ strike cruisers to engage the xeno's vessels. As the cruisers moved their bulk towards for far smaller craft, Haniel noticed sudden panic in the hails coming from the vessels. The death of these unknown vessels was of little importance, and instead Haniel turned his attention back to the moon, and the deployment of the Adeptus Astartes. _We come for you Cypher, and this time you shall not escape._


	4. Chapter 4

Orak was bored to say the least. This city was interesting, and there were so many species he could devour, but unfortunately the vast majority were of an inferior genetic stock, to many weaklings who enjoy the relative comfort of city life. Very few would be considered warriors, and as such Orak had little variety when it came to absorbing genetic combat prowess. For Orak, a member of the Kroot species, the inhabitants of this world, Coruscaunt, were nothing more than junk food.

From his vantage point in an abandoned skyscraper overlooking two distant dome structures collectively referred to as the senate, he could literally smell all the meat below him. None of it was that appealing. For Kroot absorbing the genetic strengths of an enemy was how his species had evolved and how they thrived. Orak himself had done fairly well for himself in such regards. At full height, he stood at 8 feet tall, and his body while still "wirey" and slim, was ever so slightly bulkier than the average Kroot. His skin, which normally was roughly a light olive green in color, had over time taken a slightly pink coloration to it, due in no small part to the number of humans he had devoured. His large yet stubby beak was marred with chips and scars from countless battles, yet still he sharpened it so as to ease his devouring of his foe's remains. From the back of his skull sprouted a forest of quills which was the closest thing his species had to hair. He wore a piecemeal assortment of clothes held together by leather straps, which amounted to a loincloth and various pieces of armor cannibalized together forming a rough breastplate.

He sat on the edge of an open floor in an unfinished section of the skyscraper, his back leaning against a vertical crossbeam and his right leg swinging off the side. His traditional bolt rifle lay nearby within arm's reach. He had modified it not long ago with a roughly built scope turning the crude bolt thrower into a sniper rifle. He had learned knew marksmen skills after devouring the brain of an Adeptus Astertes scout marksmen, and after gaining the skills sought to improve upon his weaponry.

As he sat there remembering his last good kill, Orak's attention drifted towards his prone partner in crime who was laying by the next closest crossbeam surveying their surroundings through the scope of a carbine length exitus sniper rifle. He was a human, Nix, and he was someone Orak enjoyed a bizarre friendship with. Ever since Orak had taken up the offer to serve Lady Inquisitor Duval, Nix had been a somewhat friendly rival, though the two often talked down to each other using derogatory and xenophobic slurs. Still of the strange assortment of killers and warriors serving Lady Duval, Nix was perhaps the most level headed, on top of being an outstanding marksmen what with him being a Vindicare and all. Such skills could prove to be useful to Orak. With the lack of quality material, he began to consider eating Nix's brain and pondered what improvements he might gain.

Nix looked up from his scope looking at the city with the naked eye. There was a frown of disapproval on his face. "Stop looking at me like that."

Orak's quills rustled at the accusation, "Look like what, human Nix?"

"That look you get when you're hungry."

Orak shrugged indifferently, "Orak, not know what human Nix be speaking off."

Nix looked at Orak with an unamused sneer.

"That's a load of bullshit, you spikey bastard."

"Fine, Orak was considering eating human Nix's mind. Make Orak stronger. If it settles human Nix's mind, Orak often absorbs consciousness of those Orak eats. Human Nix could live on as Orak."

"Yeah I could live on as a freaky bird xeno who eats people! That sure sounds fun old buddy!" Though Nix spoke in a heavy handed sarcastic way, that very sarcasm did not register with Orak.

The two sat there in silence for a moment as Orak looked at Nix unsure if the assassin was speaking truthfully.

"Seriously?"

"No damn it," Nix shot back. Orak clicked his beak in annoyance as he slouched back against the vertical I beam.

"If you're so damned hungry why don't you eat that crap you brought as a snack?"

Orak held up a thermos shaped cylinder and shook it about. Inside was chopped up brain matter along with various other bits of meat from previous kills.

"Meat not fresh," Orak replied simply.

"Ah make do ya big baby," Nix said as he went back to observing the senate buildings through his scope.

Orak, not having much of a choice at this point, resigned to eating the bits of meat he had stored. They continued to sit there observing those coming in and out of the senate structures. The Largest of the two structures rose up in a vaguely mushroom shape, and based off general information gathered, this was where the members of the Senate of the Galactic Empire convened, though based off Orak had heard on the streets, that was about to change. Since they were on a world far from the Imperium of Man where a wide variety of species intermingled, Lady Duval told her retinue to integrate and listen to the common news and gossip of the people on this planet, as any information gleaned could be useful on their mission. Orak always worked at Lady Duval's pleasure as he owed her a debt he could never repay. As such, when she told them to listen for information, Orak obeyed.

That information in this case pointed to the dissolution of this empire's government, and replacing it with something more authoritarian. Orak didn't care, nor did he think it would be useful information, but it was not his place to question, only to obey.

This new authoritarian regime, however, was mostly focused on the second dome shaped building. It was a palace of some sorts, as far as Orak could tell. Here resided the current ruler of the Galactic Empire, Emperor Sheev Palpatine. While Orak did not know what his Lady's exact purpose was in coming here, he did have the hunter's intuition to know that this Palpatine was more than likely their target. Supposedly he was this empire's savior who ended the last great war, only to start a new one with a rebellious faction. Despite his general approval amongst the people, Orak had heard many rumors about this Palpatine possessing some dark powers and evil agenda that would destroy everything. Orak like the sound of that. If they were going to face this Palpatine, Orak hoped to get the chance to eat his brain.

For now though they simply waited, and watched. Nix had been busy all night observing guard rotations and their patrol patterns. He memorized faces and looked for identifying features of all who went in, be they staff or senator, which Nix was only able to do thanks to a neural implant. Orak on the other hand was a spotter and bodyguard for Nix, but doing this all day was mind numbing. The sun was high and it was clearly past midday. In but a few more hours the sun would begin to set and it would again be night, which meant more boredom for Orak. He needed to pass the time so he started up another conversation.

"Orak has question for human Nix."

Nix sighed at the break in his concentration, "What is it buddy?"

"Human Nix confuses Orak, because of human Nix's mates. Which one has Human Nix chosen?"

Nix gave Orak a look of apprehension. Orak knew the subject would bother his friend and he took a small sadistic sense of joy in that. In this case he was referring to Nix's bizarre relationship with two female members of the inquisitorial retinue, Renn a former adeptus sororitas convinced (or conned) into Lady Duval's service and oddly enough an elder exodite Maya. Both had been brought on for their combat expertise in close quarters, Renn being a sister superior from the Order of our Martyred Lady who wielded a blessed power sword with deadly efficiency, and Maya who formerly was a banshee though had changed her aspect after some grave disgrace, and instead took up the path of exodite, eventually ending up in Lady Duval's retinue.

Nix's relations with both women was peculiar. There seemed to be something resembling love with Renn, and with Maya there was simply an arrangement in place. It could best be described that Maya occasionally had an itch which needed scratching, and Nix was the most eligible to do so.

"You're bringing this up on purpose aren't you?"

"Question still stands human." Orak pressed his beak positioned awkwardly in what resembled a cruel smile.

Nix groaned in exasperation, "Honestly I don't know. I think I pissed both of them off to be honest."

Orak clicked his beak. "Tch, you humans are too complicated. Kroot breed to survive. There is no need for one mate."

Orak was about to continue but Nix raised a hand cutting the alien off. "As fascinating as that may be. Our man is here."

Looking through Nix's scope, down at the entrance to the lower senate dome, the imperial agent Nairn could be seen walking inside. Though he walked as cool and calmly as he could there was a certain urgency to his step. Orak looked through his scope as well and examined the Imperial Agent.

"He is moving with purpose. What did human Nix say to make him so?"

"Stirred up the nest, so to speak," he said with a sense of pride "now we see how they react."

He flicked twice at the radio receiver attached to his ear. The sound of the flick over the radio waves was his signal. Two flicks signaled the plan was moving forward. He heard a flick back in confirmation.

"Alright Orak, enough small talk let's get to work. When they go on alert watch their troop deployments and mark their patrol patterns. They'll be more attentive now so let's back up a bit. Find someplace less revealing," he said indicating the relative openness of the construction site. Orak nodded in acknowledgement and the pair relocated. Now was not the time to fire. Now was the time to watch and learn.

* * *

Loaction: Deep space surrounding the Moon of Migeto

"Mr. Sharpe! Status report!" Arno shouted on the beaten and battered bridge of the _Defiant_. The ship was in a bad way. More than a few of the ships systems were smoldering overloaded wrecks. There were fires internally throughout the ship, and many decks were breached. Of the five ships only the _Defiant_ and the _Swift_ remained along with a handful of tie fighters. Behind them at some 2,000 kilometers to their stern one of the hulking ships was in pursuit. It was hardly the largest of the unidentified vessels, yet its bulk was easily that of a star destroyer, far larger than Arno's light cruiser. Closing even quicker where what passed for the massive ship's fighter compliment. They were similarly bulky, with a clear design that favored void combat. They were almost like the small armed freighters the rebel alliance was so fond of using, though these ships were purposefully designed with combat in mind. As they tried to escape Arno saw that his enemies were closing in ready to snuff out their prey.

"Mr. Sharpe!" he called again.

A dazed officer stood up from his smoldering post. Sharpe was bleeding from his forehead and appeared to be in a daze, but still functioning.

"Sir," he said weakly, "the hull is compromised in a few areas and the hyperdrive is out. We still have propulsion and the weapons are primed."

He was interrupted as a sudden shockwave shook the ship. Nearby the communications officer, Bordo, cried out in dismay. "Sir the bastards got the _Swift!_ "

Looking out the starboard viewport, Arno saw the shattered debris of _Swift_ showering outwards as its hull was torn apart by a massive beam weapon. Without their hyperdrive they would never be able to escape. Arno began to consider his options.

"Sir!" Mr. Borod interrupted again, "I'm receiving a weak transmission from the ground forces on Migeto! It's Lieutenant Pierce! He wants to know why we are abandoning him."

There was a violent shake as a beam weapon fired past _Defiant_.

"Our left engine is gone sir!" a desperate Sharpe shouted.

He was running out of options. Yet in a moment of clarity, what he needed to do became apparent to him. His crew had to survive no matter what. The question was how to save them.

"Mr. Sharpe give a general order. All hands are to abandon ship immediately."

The bridge crew looked at him dumbfounded. He knew they wouldn't want to go, so he did what he had to, to make them leave. Arno pulled out his blaster and fired a shot at Mr. Sharpe's console. Sharpe jumped back as the bolt struck the computer.

"Now damn you all!" he shouted. They listened this time hustling out to the escape pods. Sharpe lingered a moment looking back to his captain.

"I'm going to turn about and put you lot on a trajectory for Migeto, understood?"

"Yes sir," Sharpe said almost distantly. He snapped one last salute. "It was an honor sir."

"Give my regards to Mr. Pierce. Now go."

Sharpe left the bridge leaving Arno by himself. He felt horribly alone, and utterly terrified. If only he could escape as well. He turned his thoughts away from such things and instead concentrated on what must be done. He reprogramed the turbo lasers to fire automatically at his pursuers, to do what little he could do. He rushed over to the coms station and opened a channel.

"This is Captain Arno to any remaining ties in the area respond."

There was a brief static before a voice came crackling through. "This is Boggy One. Go ahead Arno."

"Boggs! We're abandoning ship! I'm launching the escape pods towards Migeto. I need you and your fighters to run escort can you do that?"

"Roger Arno, what about you?"

"I'm going to give our new friends something to think about. Be sure to hide yourselves on the moon too!"

"Roger that Arno. Good Hunting!"

As he moved back to the helm, he felt an odd sense of calm pass over him. Death felt meaningless now. Though still he could think of other places he would rather be. There was a ding on one of the still functioning terminals, and an indication sprang up showing that all the escape pods had been sealed. What remained of his crew was now tucked away and ready to launch. He took control of the vessel and made a hard turn presenting the ships underside towards Migeto. He put the ship at full thrust and lined up the trajectory. Once the angle was good he flicked a switch giving the signal. There was a series of thuds as escape pods launched out from the ship. The Tie fighters broke off from _Defiant,_ and followed the pods on their trajectory. As if on cue, the enemy fighters broke off from their pursuit of _Defiant_ , and started chasing the escaping Imperials. However, Arno cut them off. With what firepower he had left, he programmed his remaining cannons to fire in preprogrammed patterns, blanketing the area in front of the pursuers with lethal laser fire. He clipped a few of the smaller vessels. Even destroyed some outright. The others were forced to break off under the barrage, and Arno got to experience a brief victory. It was unfortunately cut short, as the larger capitol ship let loose with a barrage of heavy weapons. In an instant what remained of _Defiant,_ was pulverized and shattered. Arno barely felt anything as he was vaporized by the incoming fire. Yet he bought the needed time for his crew to escape to safety. Though now safety was a relative term. As the Imperials floated towards Migeto in a slow descent, the silhouettes of the hostile fleet hung in orbit over Migeto sending chills down the spines of all who witnessed them. Though they escaped one death, the Imperial's fight for survival was just beginning.


End file.
